


Shengen

by MissSanguineOus



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Book 8: Blood of Tyrants, Laurence helps Tharkay get dressed what can possibly go unexpectadly different than it ought to, M/M, Tension, friendly undressing, happens right after the Fabulous Rescue, have i overestimated the damage Tharkay suffered? maybe, jumping between narratives PARKOUR, oh wait is that, totally platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 04:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSanguineOus/pseuds/MissSanguineOus
Summary: Tharkay glanced at the clothes dubiously, feeling slightly faint at the prospect of all the effort putting them on would involve."I think I am good" he said."You are in rags, Tenzing" Laurence replied "You cannot stay in those""As you previously said, getting dressed may be slightly out of my range for now""As I previously said, I will help you" Laurence said.





	Shengen

"We shall leave in an hour" Laurence said "Do try to get at least some sleep. The rest shall have to wait until we are aloft, I fear"

"Do not worry, I had sleep aplenty back there" Tharkay said, smirking "There was hardly anything else to do besides"

Laurence felt his heart twitch painfully, as he yet again tried to imagine all his friend went through.

"Rest now" he said, getting up.

He bent down to adjust the blanket covering Tharkay and made sure that the pillows were arranged properly before leaving the tent.

The necessary preparations did not take long, despite Laurence's honest hopes some more time would be needed, so that Tharkay could rest undisturbed. But Napoleon would not stall, and neither could they.

He did not have to wake Tharkay when he went back inside the tent, for he found him already sitting on the bed, his face pale and sweaty; he was breathing heavily. Laurence was by his side in a second.

"What has happened?" he asked in distress "Are you alright?"

"Well, I _wanted_ to stand up, but I only made it so far" Tharkay was still breathing with difficulty "It is those damn ribs"

"You should not move, you will hurt yourself worse" Laurence said

"Well, I have to walk around somehow"

"I will help you" Laurence replied.

He picked up the pile of fresh garments he had previously thrown on the bed. Tharkay glanced at it dubiously, feeling slightly faint at the prospect of all the effort the process of putting them on would involve.

"I think I am good" he said.

"You are in rags, Tenzing" Laurence replied "You cannot stay in those"

"Bold statement from a man who has got more of his blood on his clothes than inside his body" Tharkay said "As you previously said, getting dressed may be slightly out of my range for now"

Bitterness was clear in his voice.

"As I previously said, I will help you" Laurence said.

"I do not like to be dressed like a child, thank you very much"

"Well, then, you better put your mind to recovering promptly" Laurence said.

"Well, are you not smart-mouthed" Tharkay replied, glaring at him "Fine, let us deal with it quickly, and hope Bonaparte does not arrive in Moscow when you are busy tying my shoes for me"

"Would you rather face him barefoot and shirtless?"

"I suppose that could provide some distraction"

Will chuckled.

His mind currently felt like a dark, cluttered room, with only one lamp illuminating a small part of it. Every word he and Tharkay exchanged seemed to widen this area by a few inches, shedding light on more and more of the room. Laurence was quite certain he was not going to like everything he discovers, but it did bring him relief to be slowly recovering his identity.

His content quickly faded, as he began taking Tharkay's shirt off, uncovering more and more of the damage done to his friend's body. After unbuttoning the shirt, he saw Tharkay's chest, lower part of which was mostly wrapped in bandages, presumably due to broken ribs. Above them, he saw more scorched marks, covered in some herbal-smelling ointment from Keynes' supply.

"Oh, I am so sorry" he whispered.

"What for?" Tharkay shrugged, wincing "We have all been through worse. The last time I saw Granby he had one arm more, for instance. You did happen to look better as well"

Laurence shook his head. There was a difference between wounds suffered in battle – when one gave and received them in equal measure – and those acquired in captivity. There was nothing fair, or commendable in the latter.

Carefully, he slid the shirt off Tharkay's shoulders, revealing his upper arms, covered in bruises of various colours, shapes and sizes, clearly visible on the paled skin. As gently as he could, Laurence took Tharkay's bandaged hand and put it through the cuff of the sleeve.

He glanced at Tharkay's face.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, no. Not at all"

Laurence repeated the routine with the other arm. Now he could see the entity of injuries across Tharkay's upper body. Cut, bruised, burned, crisscrossed with white straps of bandages around the battered ribs and some worse wounds.

A couple of seconds passed before Laurence realized he was staring.

It was not the first time he saw Tharkay in dishabille, but never before did he pay more attention to it, even if now it was only regarding the awful damage displayed before his eyes. Laurence suddenly felt abashed by having his friend's lean body exposed right in front of him.

Trying to ignore the blush he felt was creeping onto his cheeks, he grabbed the fresh shirt from the pile. Once again, he lifted Tharkay's hand as delicately as he could, with the tips of his fingers as if it was a butterfly, able to flee at a more rapid movement.

Now he became aware of the prickling sensation at the spot where his skin met Tharkay's, but he did not allow his movements to become rushed; not only not to hurt his friend, but also, as he realised, because it was oddly pleasant a feeling, even under not-so-pleasant circumstances.

When he pulled the shirt over Tharkay's shoulders, Laurence glanced at his friend's face and found Tharkay's dark eyes fixed on him. He had not realized leaning in so close.

"Forgive me" Laurence muttered.

"For what?" Tharkay replied, a hint of a daunting smile wandering around his lips.

Laurence cleared his throat, unable to produce a more sensible reply. He busied himself with doing up the buttons of Tharkay's shirt.

"How is Arkady?" Tharkay asked, interrupting the awkward silence "I thought I saw him among you. Is he hurt badly?"

Laurence winced.

"He will make it" he said "And you have already spared more concern for that rascal than he has for you. We were lucky to even learn that you were with him. When I think..."

His hands shook and he had trouble with doing up the last few buttons. Laurence lowered his hands and let them rest on Tharkay's thighs.

"We might have not found you at all" he said silently.

Tharkay laid his bruised hands on Laurence's.

"But you did" he said.

"But what if..."

"Do not dwell on that now, Will"

Laurence sighed.

Yet he could not get rid of the dreadful thought of what could have happened if they did not find Tharkay, either due to Arkady's thoughtlessness or sheer misfortune, for misfortune would have been enough to prevent them from finding their way in the labyrinth of caves.

In such course of events, Laurence's lack of memory would have been a blessing, truly, preventing him from conceiving how great a loss he has suffered.

"Will" Tharkay said, pulling him out from his dark thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Think no more of it. We have enough to worry about in the present; it is no use occupying yourself with worrying about the past"

Laurence nodded and fastened the last few buttons. Taking Tharkay by his elbows, Laurence helped him up. To keep his balance, Tharkay rested his forearms on Laurence's shoulders, as Will bent down to deal with his trousers.

 

*

 

From above, Tharkay could see the wound at the side of Laurence's head even more clearly. There was still a lot of blood covering his hair, since during the past hour Laurence apparently only found time to wash some of the dried blood and dirt off his face and have his dressing changed, which overall improved the look of the wound only slightly at best.

In contrast with his golden hair and his gentle, concerned face, it gave him an appearance of an angel, who fell from above and fell hard, probably against a rockface or two.

Laurence slid down his trousers and Tharkay hissed silently as some of the dried blood sticking the fabric and the flesh together was torn off.

"Sorry!" Laurence exclaimed momentarily "Sorry, I should have thought!"

"Do not fret, Will, we do not have time to cut it off piece by piece"

"I do not want to hurt you more"

"I should hope not" Tharkay said, smirking.

Darker stains of blood were clearly visible on the light fabric of the drawers and this time Laurence decided to spare a few minutes to moisten the scabs with wet cloth before trying to pull the fabric away. Tharkay gave up trying to convince him that it was needless concern.

Quite quickly too, since he admitted before himself that the feeling was actually quite agreeable, and not only because it was a rather substantial change from the kind of touch he got used to in the past couple of weeks. Laurence's hands were gentle and careful, considerably more so than Keynes' when he dressed Tharkay's wounds, the process making it too clear that _his_ patients usually had thick skin and hard scales.

Tharkay found it difficult to remember the last time he experienced a touch so careful or so welcome on his body that it caused slight tingling at the spot and yet did not seem inappropriate in the slightest.

"It should be better now" Laurence said quietly, helping Tharkay to sit on the bed.

Tharkay gladly rested against him and sat with a heavy sigh. Instinctively, he reached with his hands to the buttons of the pantaloons to undo them, before he remembered how useless his fingers were.

"They will heal soon" Laurence said reassuringly, gently moving them away.

"Wonder who will shoot a pistol for me until then" Tharkay said grumpily, lifting himself slightly to allow Laurence to pull the pants off.

They have already seen each other undressed a dozen times, yet there was a difference between taking a quick bath in some wild pond, and plain sitting on the bed in front of Laurence not only half-naked, but also having his garments removed by Laurence himself and it did not help that whenever his hands brushed against Tharkay's leg on the way down, they left a prickling trace behind. All things considered, Tharkay was glad that his shirt was large enough to cover him at least slightly.

Tharkay has been looking to the side, resisting the urge to follow Laurence's hands with his eyes, but at some point he allowed himself to glance at Will and caught him with his gaze fixed on the old, ugly scar on his left thigh.

 

*

 

Laurence remembered the scar the moment he saw it; the blurred memory now appeared vividly before his eyes. First, he recalled Tharkay's painful grunt and the smell of burned flesh, then the rest: the steam-filled room, slippery floor and the frantic escape.

He felt an odd need to brush his thumb against the mark.

"Old times, huh?" Tharkay asked.

Laurence glanced up; saw Tharkay's eyes fixed on his face and a hint of a smirk wandering around his lips. He blushed.

"Who would have thought that we would find ourselves in this part of the world so soon once more" he said to mask his abashment.

Tharkay understood that by that Laurence meant the place they first met, years ago, which was followed by their journey to Istanbul, where he later acquired the scar.

"I told you, the world is not such big a place after all"

"You did."

He helped Tharkay put on a fresh pair of stockings and pants, supporting him as he got up and doing up the buttons of the underwear, ignoring the heat he felt on his face, when he had to lift Tharkay's shirt slightly, revealing a section of naked skin with a trace of dark hair reaching up and ending just a few inches above where Will's hands were trying to deal with the buttons. Laurence forced himself to think nothing of it. He tried to avoid touching Tharkay's skin as much as possible, since every such touch seemed to send a spark through his fingers, making his job even more difficult.

 

*

 

A slight shiver went through Tharkay's body as Laurence's rough fingers brushed against his abdomen, and it was only partially due to the coldness of Will's skin. Tharkay averted his gaze, the sight of Laurence's head bowed down and his stare fixed at his groin making him feel a not-unpleasant, yet much unwanted tension somewhere in his stomach.

Tharkay felt the process was stretching longer than it should, but it was perhaps only his own impression. He rested his forearms on Laurence's shoulders once more as Will was pulling up his trousers. Laurence straightened up, tucking Tharkay’s shirt behind his waistband.

When he finished, he looked up and this time Tharkay was caught off guard by how close they were standing. Laurence's face was inches away from his; he could count the freckles on his nose and spot a few scars that appeared since the last time he saw him. A few strands of hair were set loose and Tharkay did not resist the sudden temptation to brush them away from Laurence's face. He could feel his friend's quickened pulse beneath his fingers.

Laurence's breath hatched and Tharkay realized he was breathing slightly faster as well. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he has been standing up for so long which cost him much more effort than it normally would. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was because Laurence's fingers were still hooked on the waistband of his trousers as if Will forgot to move them away, just as Tharkay, who still had his forearms resting on Laurence's shoulders.

Prolonging the movement with which he tucked Laurence's hair behind his ear, Tharkay traced his thumb along Will's cheekbone and down to his jaw, before finally letting his hand drop. Laurence shut his eyes with a silent sigh, as if looking at Tharkay's face and feeling his touch as the same time was too much.

Laurence bowed his head and leaned closer, until his chin was resting against Tharkay's shoulder.

"Thank you" Tharkay said "for coming for me"

"I wish we were there sooner" Laurence replied in a hoarse voice "I wish we had not parted at all"

Tharkay felt a shrill running up his spine.

"You do seem to get yourself in trouble any time I let you out of my sight" he remarked, feeling his throat has gone dry.

"You mentioned a pot and a kettle earlier, I think"

Tharkay laughed silently, his ribs hurting at the vibration.

He could feel Will's breath on his neck; it was making his skin tingle. Tharkay felt they were treading a very thin line – a border that once crossed could not be crossed back. It could have been up to him, it could have been up to Laurence to take that step and Tharkay though he knew that neither would be opposed if the other did. He would not be, for certain. All it would take was a word, a gesture...

The decision was made for them, as they heard loud footsteps outside and Temeraire's voice calling their names; no sooner had they jumped away from each other – Laurence quickly catching Tharkay by the elbows before he collapsed – when Granby walked in.

"Are you ready?" he asked, seemingly not taking notice of the blush that Tharkay could spot on Laurence's cheeks and feel on his own.

"We are" Laurence replied, his voice still a bit husky. He glanced at Tharkay and in his eyes there was the same dimming bewilderment that was Tharkay's share as well – one that made him feel as if whatever happened a few moments ago was a dream or a figment of imagination.

One look into Laurence's eyes proved that it was not. The moment passed, the feeling lingered and, Tharkay finally realized, the border was already crossed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to yell into the void about Tharkay and Laurence with me come here: https://darkandstormyranger.tumblr.com/


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